The Lesser Angels - A Fallout Tale
by H.E.Persona
Summary: When Vault 13's water chip fails, the Overseer sends a search party to the surface to locate a replacement. Led by the charismatic Albert, the group, made up of Chief Johansen, Nick and Kincaid (OC's) must traverse the wasteland and all its horrors, at the cost of losing themselves. Loosely based on the events of Fallout 1, with some creative license.
1. Prologue

**Author's Note**

This is the first piece of fanfiction I've uploaded to this site. As a result, it is a little rough around the edges and I would benefit from some critique (wouldn't we all!). I decided to write this story after starting the Fallout series again from the very beginning, with a little gem of a game almost as old as I am. Like so many others, Fallout 3 was my introduction to the series, and after playing the original titles I became aware just how shallow - if that's the correct term, the game's lore is compared to its predecessors (Damn you, Bethesda!). There's something about the Fallout universe, however, that stimulates my imagination like nothing else I've encountered. The conflicted characters, the dark satire, the strange permeating sense of melancholy; all of these themes seem to get the juices flowing. I prefer morally 'grey' characters to your straight-up good/bad karma ones, as I don't think there's much fun in an overly perfect hero or villain. As a result, I intend to try and keep to a gritty, realistic style and may change the story's rating as I progress. Now without further ado...

 **PROLOGUE**

The gunshots echoed across the Dead City, mournful peals that rang eerily through the labyrinth of steel-framed tombs. Talius scrambled to reload his shotgun, the 12-gauge shells slick within his sweaty palms. His surroundings had frayed his nerves; he pulled the breach lever with shaking hands, scattering hot casings along the ground.

"Come on, _come on!_ " he growled angrily. Time was growing short. The mutant freaks had entrenched themselves in the old Pumphouse, now little more than a heap of concrete supports and rubble. Vault 12 lay beneath, and then… he wasn't certain. The mission had to succeed, or everyone he loved would die.

He fed the shells into the barrels. At least Set's people had held up their end of the bargain. The Zombie gangers circled the Watershed compound, wary of crossing the mutant's sights. The street had become a kill-zone. Bullets zipped between the derelict ruins, followed by the ominous crack of a laser rifle. As he watched, one of the gangers burst into flames, disintegrated in the blink of an eye. Talius snapped the shotgun back together and cocked it, resisting the urge to vomit up his guts. Vault-sec training had never prepared him for this. Civil disputes never ended in piles of ash.

"Meatbag, cover our asses!", Garret snarled to his left. "We're getting shot to pieces!" The radiation had burnt away his humanity years before, leaving only malice and a body of decomposing flesh. All of Set's people were marked so. Talius knew the wretched creature would kill him in an instant if he displeased its master.

"Go, go now!"

He broke from cover, sighting a hulking brute crouched by the Pumphouse wall. Its massive frame jutted awkwardly out of cover, exposing its head and part of an arm. Talius pulled the trigger, feeling the shotgun buck hard against the shoulder. The mutant's head disappeared in a shower of gore. He ducked behind a rusted Corvega as bullets ricocheted in all directions. Two of the gangers nearest to him collapsed, their black blood hissing as it spattered against the tarmac. Talius shied away in revulsion.

"Push up, boys!", Garret cried. "We're eating fresh meat tonight!"

Several ghouls swarmed the Pumphouse, clutching spears and makeshift pipe-guns. In truth, they were but roaches compared to their towering foes, yet they had the greater numbers. An explosion rattled the street as one of them let off an improvised bomb. Pieces of mutant rained from the sky. Talius held his fire, the battle had grown too close to spray shotgun shells into a crowd. He slowly crept around the Corvega, seeing if there was a way clear into the compound. An insidious cloud of dust had settled over the battlefield, hindering his visibility.

Suddenly his ears detected the whoosh of propellant. Harrowing screams filled the air, compounded by a menacing orange glow. One of the ghouls stumbled past him, shrieking as the flames consumed her. The stench of her burnt flesh caught in his throat. Huge silhouettes appeared amidst the blaze, like demons twisting and creeping forth from the depths of hell. They slaughtered the Zombies with impunity, dousing them in fire for the second time. None who stood before them survived.

"Run for your lives!"

"The _Muties_ are gonna torch us!"

Talius cursed as he collided with a fleeing ganger. They collapsed in an undignified heap, sending his shotgun sliding beneath the Corvega.

"Shit, shit, _shit_!"

One of the mutants locked its gaze on the ghoul sprawled by the curb side. Its orbs seemed to gleam in the firelight, reveling as it pulled a small, innocuous object from its belt.

"BYE BYE, ZOMBIE!"

Talius closed his eyes. There was a massive surge of light and heat. He was thrown into the air like a ragdoll, before falling back to earth with a sickening crunch. His vision flickered in and out as his head struck concrete. The blast rang in his eardrums, reverberating through every bone in his broken body. It took him a moment to realize a shard of metal had embedded itself in his face.

Something moved in his peripheral vision. His one good eye barely registered the shimmering figure standing before him, an angel of death under a bleak, ocher sky. A hand extended out to engulf him. Talius' last thoughts were of the Vault, and the people he'd failed.


	2. Vault of the Future

**Author's Note**

Thank you everyone for the constructive reviews, I appreciate that the Prologue was very short and I will probably revisit it once I've got some of these other ideas out of my system. I'm not really used to writing action sequences and I felt it posed an interesting challenge to get the gears moving. This next chapter is something a bit different, an attempt to set the scene, if you will. I hope you guys enjoy it, and keep the reviews coming :D

 **Vault of the Future**

Albert sighed at the flickering terminal screen. The words seemed to blur into an incomprehensible mess before his eyes, evading every attempt at understanding _._ He ran a tired hand through his locks, cursing his own fallibility.

"You're actually going to do it", Cecilia said. "You're actually going to stand for that _murderer_."

"Someone has to. I'm the Vault lawyer, it has to be me."

Cecilia looked incredulous; her ruby lips pursed, and arms crossed taut. "Albert, that man was blind drunk on duty! His blood alcohol was so high, the doctor had to flush his system. Three people are-"

"I'm _well aware_ of that," Albert snapped. "Not a day goes by where I don't see their grieving families!"

"Then you know they'll blame you if you do this! The reactor went critical on his watch, those people deserve justice."

"Don't you see? That's exactly the problem! The entire Vault is convinced that Artyom Dubrovhsky is guilty. How could I call myself a lawyer if I allowed him to be sentenced without a fair trial?"

"This isn't about your damned _pride_! We're engaged, Albert. Does my opinion mean so little to you?"

Albert gazed a thousand yards, boring into in the spartan, office wall. He swallowed painfully. "Only to satisfy our parent's wishes. We both know that."

A pregnant silence filled the room.

"Then… as a voice of reason, I'm _begging_ you to drop this." Her voice wavered, "the Overseer already suspects you of moving against him."

"For having a difference of opinion? No, that doesn't sound like our _benevolent_ leader at all."

Cecilia turned away, shaking her head in disbelief. She sniffled. "You and Theresa – oh, don't think I don't know. Your little faction is causing a stir. Father told me Security are watching your every move. One excuse and they'll lock you up in solitary."

Albert paused, studying her delicate features. She was pretty, with shoulder-length blonde bangs and cute dimples. His father had gone to great pains to find him a fit match. Not everyone in the Vault had it so lucky.

"You'd have me stop, abandon everything that my heart tells me is right."

Something moved behind Cecilia's eyes, quickly displaced by a spark of anger. "Antagonizing the Vault will only make you a pariah. Is that what you want?"

"What I _want_ is for them to listen! We're not meant to die down here, Cee. We're meant to see the sky, to breathe fresh air, to feel the sun on our skin, don't you realise?"

"Maybe part of me once wished I could… But this is our home. _Safe,_ underground, free from hardship and radiation. You'd be a goddamn fool to throw it away."

Albert was silent for a moment. "I… keep having this dream," he began uncertainly. "I'm on the surface, fishing in a creek. The water is crystal clear, and I catch a fish with colored scales. Then the sun bursts through the clouds and turns the world gold, like something from an old picture reel."

Cecilia looked at him sadly. "You always were a dreamer," she said quietly. "But down here in Vault 13, you should let those dreams die." She closed the door behind her with a hiss.

Albert sat staring blankly at the terminal screen. The cursor blinked in and out of existence, marking an obscure passage in Dubrovhsky's file. He rubbed the stubble of his jaw, trying to process the whirlwind of thoughts and emotions going through his head.

Life in the Vault was about to change.

* * *

The same news came over the loudspeaker.

" _Good afternoon, Vault citizens_. _This is your automated VAULT-TEC_ _broadcast for_ \- _December, 3_ _rd_ _2161._ _Today's temperature is 64 degrees Fahrenheit,_ _with daylight settings changing around 16:57 hours. We hope-"_

" _-_ You have a productive day and, remember, _you're_ _special_." The words fell bitterly from Albert's tongue. He'd heard them so many times they'd ceased to have meaning. He walked across the Atrium, its ceiling rendered in an image of the blue California sky. Another VAULT-TEC lie, no one had seen the real sky for 84 years. 13:17 flashed up on his PIP-Boy. The Vault was a hive of activity that afternoon, people going about their assigned tasks in a swarm of blue jumpsuits. Some flashed him dirty looks as he passed, or began whispering in hushed tones. He paid them no mind, instead focusing his attention on the old pre-war adverts that flashed up on the notice boards. The familiar messages were present; Courage today, Victory tomorrow! Nuka cola, zap that thirst! A third screen was open, exposing the mess of wires and components within _._ A man wearing rubber gloves was digging around inside. As Albert approached, he looked up and wiped the sweat from his brow.

"Albert, still rubbing people up the wrong way I hear."

"Always," Albert replied with a grin. "How's it going, Nick?"

Nick Gonzales was one of Vault 13's maintenance corps, a small army of workers dedicated to keeping their home in working order. He was a man of middling height, with a stubbly, unkempt beard and dark hair that bordered on receding. He peeled off one of his gloves and rubbed the back of his head.

"Ah, same old. Something always needs fixing in this place. If its not a busted terminal, its the lighting. If its not a ventilation duct, its an advertising board. Sometimes I wish I could just up and leave."

"Yeah, tell me about it."

Nick knelt and flicked open his toolbox. "Did you hear? The water supply cut off to the living quarters for a few hours yesterday. Jenkins and Prado couldn't find the problem, the Overseer almost had a riot on his hands."

"That would've been quite the sight."

"Yeah, except they would call me to fix the mess." Nick grinned ruefully, plucking a screwdriver from his box. "Where you off to anyway?"

"I was going stir-crazy in the office, needed to stretch my legs a bit."

"That case is getting to you, I'm not surprised. Its all anyone has been talking about for the last few days."

"You don't know the half of it."

"I'm not sure I'd want to. The one I feel for most in all of this is Artyom's kid, is it Nat, Natalie…"

"Natalia," Albert corrected.

Nick nodded. "That's the one. Must be messed up thinking your dad killed a bunch of people."

"Hopefully she won't have to for much longer."

"Uh-huh, and how's Cecilia taking all of this?"

Albert averted his eyes.

"Ah… well, give it some time. You'll both come around to each other eventually. I was the same with Sam, and now we're having a kid. Things have a way of panning out, you know."

"I guess… Anyway, I'm going to swing by the cafeteria, pick up some chow. You still up for movie night tomorrow?"

" _The_ _Silver Shroud?_ Wouldn't miss it for the world."

They shook hands and parted, Nick returning to his tools and his wires. Albert allowed his feet to carry him through the corridors, subconsciously following the painted lines on the floor. Yellow led to the Cafeteria. It was on the same level as the Atrium, just past the Schoolroom. As he walked, he mulled over the days events in his head; Cecilia, Nick's assertions that they would reconcile, his dream… Always the dream. ' _Dreaming is foolish_ ', his father had always said, ' _fanciful notions that had no bearing in the real world_ '. He passed the schoolroom window. Inside sat twenty children in various stages of boredom, watching Mr Brain drone on about one subject or another. The novelty of being taught by a disembodied mind in a mobile glass tank soon wore off. A flash of red caught Albert's eye, he stopped short.

"-that's why it's so important that we grow our own food. Without hydroponics and our water gardens, the Vault would wither and die."

The woman's hair shone with a coppery luster, falling about her shoulders in delicate, bouncing ringlets. Her skin was like alabaster, the zip of her jumpsuit pulled down just far enough to expose the pale 'v' of her neck. He allowed himself a wry smile. Theresa Hendricks, Vault 13's horticulturist; the woman who would lead a revolution.

The robot rolled forward on its tracks, addressing the class in a dull monotone. _"Thank you, Miss Hendricks. Students, please give our guest a round of applause."_

A polite applause emanated from the classroom. After a moment, Theresa noticed him at the window. The corners of her mouth twitched slightly upwards.

"See you later?", he mouthed through the glass.

She raised a curious eyebrow at him, before quickly returning her attention to the class. After a moment, when Mr Brain had taken center-stage once more, she looked back, a flash of wickedness in her gaze. _Yes_.

* * *

The Living Quarters were shrouded in darkness. Night had fallen upon Vault 13, the ambient lighting nonexistent but for the dull glow of the emergency bulbs. Albert crept along the deserted corridor, staying light on his toes. 01:07 flashed on his PIP-Boy. It wouldn't do to be spotted at this time of morning, his name was already on everyone's lips. He winced as he knocked over an empty glass bottle, sending it clattering down the passageway.

"Shit…"

He thought he heard movement behind him. He twisted around, instinctively raising his fists in a defensive posture. There was no one but himself. He cursed his own jitteriness, feeling at once tense and foolish. The doorway loomed ahead of him, large and imposing. He paused before it. Something at the back of his mind was telling him no, that he should return to his room and prepare for another day. He rapped his knuckles on the door.

It immediately slid open with a sigh. Standing within, framed by a steady lamplight, stood Theresa. Albert gave her an appraising look. She wore red sleepwear that did little to hide her modesty, accentuating the curves and contours of her body. He felt his heartbeat accelerate and the rush of adrenaline as it coursed through his bloodline. He became painfully aware that his Vault suit had suddenly become rather stuffy.

"Well, are you just going to stand there?", she asked in a sultry voice. She tugged the lace strings of her gown, causing it to fall away. She looked like an angel in the night, one who would lead him to sin and damnation.

Albert pulled her in for a kiss, devouring her lips with a passion he'd scarcely known. He punched the door release before falling into sweet paradise.

The door closed with a hush, throwing the corridor once again into darkness. All was silent, save for the whirring of the camera lens as it dialed out.


	3. Aqua Pura

**Author's Note**

Hi guys, I apologize for the long delay between chapters. Life is chaotic, and I've recently started a new job which is leaving me less time than I'd like to write. I have the next few chapters outlined, so hopefully things speed up from here. I also wanted to take time out to thank you guys for leaving reviews, its motivating to me as a writer, not to mention extremely constructive. So without further ado, here is Chapter Two (sorry :D).

 **Aqua Pura**

 _The float bobbled gently on the current, a lonely piece of cork lost amidst a sea of ripples. Albert sat motionless on the river bank, watching for any disturbances in the water. The sun reflected off it as if it were liquid glass, picking out the technicolor of pebbles lying dormant on the riverbed. The fish was out there. He moved the rod ever so slightly, manipulating the piece of Cram at the end of his line._

 _"Albert..." A breeze whispered through the reeds. He swiveled his head, looking for the source of the voice. It sent a chill down his spine, making his hairs stand on end. Dark thunderheads loomed to the east. The dreamscape seemed to lose some of its luster, its bright colors dulled._

 _"Albert..."_

 _There was a splash in the river, sending foam roiling in all directions._ _Something had stirred up the silt, hiding the riverbed beneath an opaque haze._

 _"Dreaming is foolish... Live in the real world." Albert knew that voice, those words that had haunted him from childhood._ _He spun around, expecting to see his father, only to see the gnarled face of the Overseer grinning back at him._

The buzzing pulled him from sleep. He opened his bleary eyes to the dim interior of Theresa's quarters. His PIP-Boy, discarded by the bedside with his Vault suit, reflected the ungodly hour. _05:47_.

"Who… at this time of morning?", Theresa murmured sleepily.

The buzzer sounded again, more prolonged this time. A heavy object hammered on the door.

"Albert Cole, we know you're in there!"

It was a woman's voice, one he didn't immediately recognize. He threw the covers off and swung his legs over the side of the bed, scrambling to pull on his jumpsuit. There was a commotion on the other side of the room as Theresa hastened to do the same. She cursed as she knocked the lamp from her nightstand, sending it crashing to the floor.

"Cole, I'll have Stone drag you out if I have to!"

"I'm coming!" Albert cursed under his breath; he still stank of sweat and sex, those pungent odors of the night.

"What's going on?", Theresa hissed.

"I don't know!"

There was a clamor as someone tripped the door panel from the outside. The steel panels wheezed as they pulled away in stuttering, hydraulic fits. Beyond the threshold, rigid as a statue, stood Chief Johansen. The head of Vault-Sec was a formidable woman, possessed of high cheekbones and pale blue eyes. Her athletic form rippled beneath her skintight jumpsuit, reinforced with Kevlar plates over the vital organs. The giant, Stone, stood at her shoulder, his enormous bulk half-draped in shadow. Albert didn't fail to notice the shotgun held in his grasp.

The Chief stepped into the room, wrinkling her nose distastefully. She gave Theresa an icy look before turning her gaze upon Albert, analyzing their state of undress as if they were flies in the garbage chute.

"The Overseer needs to see you," she said. " _Immediately_."

"At this time of morning? More likely you're here to throw me in Solitary."

"Oh, that can be arranged. Will you come quietly, or must I force you?"

"What does he want?"

"That is between you and him."

Theresa shot him a glance, the concern evident on her face. The whole situation stank of a power-play on the Overseer's part, and the cards were all in his favor. Albert placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "If anything happens, you know what to do."

Words seemed to catch in her throat. She inclined her head slightly, but her silence spoke volumes.

"Well then. Time to face the music," Albert said, braver than he felt.

The Chief nodded curtly, before leading the way out. The doorway yawned before him. Time seemed to slow down as he crossed the threshold, his mind reeling as he entered the near-morning gloom. Stone took up position behind them, his face inscrutable. The commotion had drawn attention. Vault dwellers lined the corridor, rudely awoken from their sleep cycles. Albert felt naked beneath their collective gaze, boring into him, judging him. His thoughts flicked to Theresa, if their dalliances were not already common knowledge, they soon would be. There were no secrets in the Vault. Albert made his walk of shame in sullen silence.

* * *

The Central Control Core was a foreboding place. Wires and pipes twisted and convoluted beneath every surface, the mechanical arteries of the Vault laid bare for all to see. Albert kept his eyes on the familiar blue lines on the floor, shining like cobalt under the emergency lighting. Dawn settings were still an hour off. He shivered in spite of himself, his muscles groaning from lack of sleep. The Chief and Stone showed no such weakness.

They entered the Overseer's domain. Monitors beamed from the walls, detailing every Vault function in lines of coalescing code. Enormous computer servers lined the walls, the collective knowledge of Vault 13 jealously guarded by its keeper. Albert felt a twisting in his gut. Jacoren sat upon his raised podium, the central hub from which he governed the Vault. He was the tumor in the brain cavity. Numerous wires fed into the terminal at his desk, making him appear like some fabled leviathan from a Grognak comic. A second man stood at the base of the podium, a face Albert recalled though his name eluded him.

"Ah, Mr Cole… welcome. My apologies for waking you at this hour."

Albert bit his tongue. The Overseer studied him with shrewd, unintelligible eyes. His hair and beard were bone white, granting him the appearance of a wizened, fatherly figure, though without the warmth.

"Officer Stone, you may leave us."

Albert looked around in confusion as the giant left without a word, his heavy footfalls echoing through the cavernous chamber. He searched the faces of those around him for any signs of their intentions, finding nothing. An uneasy silence settled over the room.

"You're already acquainted with Chief Johansen. Allow me to introduce James W. Kincaid, Vault analytics.

Albert sized up the newcomer. Kincaid cut a slender figure, with smooth, hollow cheeks and a pompadour haircut. He had a haughtiness to his bearing, seemingly stemming from the tweed jacket worn above his jumpsuit. The younger man glared at him insolently, waspish beneath the lenses of his horn-rimmed glasses.

"What's this about, _Jacoren_? You didn't drag me here for a social call."

"And here I thought lawyers were the height of civility." The Overseer raised a bushy eyebrow. "Mr Cole, I called you here because Vault 13 has a problem. A problem that threatens our very existence."

"I can assure you, Theresa and I-"

"This has nothing to do with your _affairs_ ", Kincaid interjected. "Nor your deluded followers."

Albert scowled. "Then why am I here?"

Jacoren leaned forward. "84 years ago, the Great War drove our families underground. Vault 13 has sustained us, shielding us from the fallout of the world above. It has provided for us, and we in turn have given everything to keep it operational. However... after decades of constant running, our water purifier has given up the ghost. The controller chip is shot. Due to a logistical error, we were never stocked with another one. With our current reserve, we have a few months left of clean, drinking water. After that…"

 _The water supply_. Albert's heart sank as he remembered Nick's words from the day before. "Surely there's some kind of workaround?"

"Unfortunately not. The system is dependent on the VAULT-TEC computer. We simply don't have the resources to build a new purifier from scratch."

"So where do I come into this?"

"Long story short, I'm sending a team to find a replacement. I want you to lead it."

" _Me?_ "

"Him?", Kincaid exclaimed.

The Chief took a few steps forward. "Overseer, I do not think-"

Jacoren raised a hand. "I have put a great deal of thought into this. My mind is made up."

Albert crossed his arms. "Why would you of all people want that?"

"You are a charismatic individual _, gifted_ with people. We have reason to believe that there may be communities on the surface. If so, your particular talents might prove most useful. You have expressed interest in going above ground before, have you not?" Jacoren's voice became deathly soft. "On the other hand, your tendency to become embroiled in... scandal could make your life very _uncomfortable_."

Albert clenched his jaw, balling his hands into fists. He wanted to lose control, to give the sly bastard a piece of his mind. Instead he said, "And once we're on the surface, then what?"

"We recently found the location of another Vault in our archives – Vault 15. It lies several days to the east on foot. We believe that would be the best place to start."

"All Vaults use the same water purification system. Vault 15 is the best chance of finding a replacement," Kincaid said smugly.

"And if they're in a similar position to us?"

The corners of the Overseer's mouth twitched. "Mr Kincaid, tell us what you discovered."

The young man adjusted his glasses. "The logistical error. Vault 13 was equipped with three Garden of Eden Creation kits, as opposed to the standard compliment of two. It stands to reason that our 'sister' Vault received the parts intended for us."

The Garden of Eden Creation kit, or G.E.C.K was the pinnacle of pre-war ingenuity. A device the size of a briefcase, it contained all the ingredients to transform a piece of wasteland into a verdant oasis. It was all Albert had ever dreamed of.

"Surely the G.E.C.K is a better option. We should open the Vault, establish ourselves on the surface. Radiation levels-"

"Out of the question! We don't know what awaits us up there. Would you risk the entire Vault? The children? Even the bacteria could kill us."

Albert grimaced. "We don't know if this other Vault will help us, even if they could."

"Well that's where you come in. If we must barter, you must convince them. Pack light, you leave tomorrow."

"But… I have responsibilities here. Artyom Dubrovhsky's trial-"

"Will be adjourned until you return. If all goes well, you'll be back in 2 weeks with the water chip in hand."

"And if it doesn't?"

"Artyom isn't going anywhere. He is safe in Solitary, Security will see that he is well treated."

 _Game, set and match_. Albert felt a pit growing in his stomach. Jacoren had him exactly where he wanted him; _gone_ , gallivanting into the unknown on some fool's quest. To leave was to risk everything, to refuse was out of the question. He needed a wildcard, something to regain some small modicum of control. Albert glanced as his two would-be companions, both the Overseer's picks. A plan began to form in his mind.

"I have one request."

Jacoren's brow furrowed. "...Name it."

"It is likely that we will need someone with mechanical expertise on this mission." He gestured to each of the group in turn. "I've learned the Chief is pretty handy with locked doors, but with respect none of us here know how to operate advanced electronics."

"Go on."

"I propose we bring a technician."

* * *

"Absolutely not!", Nick exclaimed. _07:31_. The old Storage room was the only place they had been able to get any privacy. Disused furniture had been stacked unceremoniously against the walls, clearing room for a myriad of dissolving boxes. Albert thought the air smelt distinctly of Abraxo powder.

"Come on, you always wanted to see the surface."

"Damn it, Albert. I can't just leave, I have a pregnant wife to think about."

"I know, and I wouldn't ask you if it wasn't important. This comes down from the Overseer. I can fill you in, but I need you to agree."

Nick gave him a disbelieving look. "What, you guys best buddies now?"

"Hardly," Albert said, a touch of ice creeping into his tone. "What if I told you that Vault 13 was on borrowed time, that everyone here has a matter of months to live."

Nick folded his arms, eyeing him warily. "Alright, I'm listening."

"What I'm about to tell you can't leave this room. Not yet." Albert lowered his voice as a pair of blue jumpsuits passed outside. He told him everything that had transpired, from his rude awakening by the Chief to his meeting with Jacoren down in the Core.

Nick recoiled as if he'd been slapped. "You're kidding..."

"Believe me, I wish I was."

His friend turned to face the wall, holding his head in his hands.

"Nick, the system is fried. According to Jacoren, we have a couple of months left if we ration the storage tanks."

"So, what's the plan? We go topside, die of dehydration up there instead? This is madness, Albert."

"They've located another Vault to the east, one with a good chance of having the part we need. I figured it would help to have someone with your expertise along… and to have someone I can trust."

"Do you know what you're asking of me?"

"I do, but I need you. I don't trust the Chief or that bastard Kincaid. Once we leave the Vault, anything could happen."

"Damn it, Albert. How am I supposed to tell Sam?"

"You can tell her that her husband will return a Vault hero."

Nick scoffed, pacing the width of the room in erratic circles. Albert knew he'd asked the impossible of him. It wasn't fair, none of it was.

"Two weeks?", he said finally.

"There and back again."

Nick blew out his cheeks, clearly caught in a whirlwind of emotions. In that moment he looked drained, like a man who knew that his choice was an illusion, that he was damned whatever he did. He reached beneath his jumpsuit and pulled out a golden locket, some pre-war heirloom of his family.

"If we do this, we fucking succeed." He flicked the locket open, revealing a photograph of his wife cradling her baby bump. " _For them_."

* * *

Level One, as always was deserted. Albert followed the blood red lines past the infirmary, his footsteps echoing eerily through the network of corridors. The Solitary cells were located up here, isolated from the general populace of the Vault. Though he'd teetered on the brink many times, he'd never personally had the misfortune to spend time in one. Those few who had often needed counselling after.

He turned the corner and paused suddenly. There, at the end of a spartan passageway sat the Vault door, an enormous steel cog several inches thick. It lay in darkness, but for the large number 13 picked out with spotlights. _Beyond that lies my destiny_ , he thought. He didn't know why but the prospect filled him with dread.

Voices carried through the corridor, disturbing him from his reverie. He was up here on business after all. He took another turning to behold two Security guards talking in low voices. Artyom's guards. They tensed as he approached, gripping their holstered pistols in warning. A grey-haired man stepped forward.

"What's your business here?"

"I'm here to see Artyom."

The lead officer regarded him with suspicion. After a moment, he gestured to his companion. "Alright, but no funny business. We'll be watching your every move."

"You do that."

The men stepped aside to allow Albert through. He pressed the door release, feeling their eyes boring into the back of his head as the cell beckoned. He stepped into the room.

" _Shit!"_

Artyom hung from the ceiling, suspended from a steel beam by a makeshift wire rope. Albert felt his blood run cold as he beheld the man's swollen, purple face. The man's eyes bulged accusingly, though death had long robbed them of their clarity. A plate of uneaten food lay beneath his feet.

The officers burst into the room, shouting and swearing. Few Vault Dwellers had ever seen a body before. The sight was one Albert would never forget.


End file.
